


A Light on a Hill

by lovetincture



Series: The First Three Words [1]
Category: Loveless
Genre: Fix-It, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Canon, Resolving Loveless' Plot: the DIY version, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetincture/pseuds/lovetincture
Summary: Soubi has been taken by Seimei, and Ritsuka is determined to get him back. Friends and enemies may help him, but ultimately, the question remains: What are you willing to do to save the one you love?
Relationships: Agatsuma Soubi/Aoyagi Ritsuka, Aoyagi Ritsuka & Aoyagi Seimei, Aoyagi Ritsuka & Sagan Natsuo & Sagan Youji
Series: The First Three Words [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078796
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually like talking a lot about my fics. I like to throw them and run, maybe in the hopes that they'll stand on their own a little better that way, without my intentions to cloud things. I don't feel like doing that this time.
> 
> I have so many feelings about this story and these characters. I found myself properly gutted and at a loss at the lack of a resolution following volume 13. I wanted to write a happy, post-canon future fic when I finished the series, but... it turns out I can't do that unless I deal with this first. Because I need to know how it ends. Because I can't ignore it, and my mind isn't going to be satisfied until I can figure out how Ritsuka and Soubi find their way back to each other after Seimei.
> 
> So this is my attempt to answer those questions for myself and now I guess for you too, if you want to come on the ride with me. I still have hopes of getting to that happier future fic one day.

You didn’t want to go with him, but that hardly matters.

You wanted to stay with Ritsuka and everything he’d just promised, but weapons don’t have wills of their own. And anyway, you shouldn’t lie. The truth is that you wanted to go with him too. After everything—everything he’s done to and for and with you, you still want to go to him. He’s still your will, your master. The sight of him still soothes and stirs a part of you that you thought had been sleeping.

You go. You don’t even look behind you. You look at the picture you’re shown of Ritsuka crying but only because you’re told to.

You’re told not to speak, and that’s fine, because you don’t have anything to say.

You’d like to say that you left your heart in that cemetery, but you know the truth is that belongs to him too.

* * *

Soubi is gone. Soubi left with Seimei.

Ritsuka tries hard not to think of it as a betrayal, to see it the same way he’d seen Soubi shattering the window at the Seven Voices Academy. It hadn’t been his fault then, and it isn’t his fault now. He doesn’t know everything about the world he now finds himself in—doesn’t know even half as much as he feels like he should—but he does know this much. That the bond between Sacrifices and Fighters is special. That any Fighter might have done the same.

It still feels like he lost a game of tug-of-war for Soubi’s heart. He’s still mad. Still bitter. Still hurt.

He feels the draw toward Seimei in his own bones, in that part of himself that yearns to forgive him everything, in spite of everything he’s done. It’s not like he doesn’t understand.

It’s just that. Well. It hurts.

It hurts a shocking amount, hurts in places he didn’t think he had nerve endings. He feels Soubi’s loss all through him, feels it in his teeth, in the fibers of his hair. He feels it down in his toes and the soles of his feet so there’s not a second he doesn’t think about it. They say time makes things better, but it doesn’t. It just stretches on and on.

_ Was any of it real? _

That’s the question he can’t stop asking. The one he doesn’t want to ask because he’s afraid of what the answer might be.

He finds himself at Soubi’s house more often than not these days—more often than he ever did when Soubi himself was present. He keeps finding new ways to feel regret, along with pain. He remembers every time he pushed Soubi away. Every time he squawked and shoved and squirmed out of his arms, and it’s not like he thinks he did anything wrong—

So why does it feel like he did?

Why would Soubi ever want a stupid kid anyway? Not when he could have Seimei.

He knows that’s not true. He knows that whatever Seimei is to Soubi, it isn’t  _ good. _ He’s seen the scars. But well, it’s not like he can help his feelings.

* * *

He’s at Soubi’s house now, sprawled out across Natsuo and Youji’s bed. They’re playing games on the floor and not paying any attention to him. His eyes track the flare of motion and lights on the screen idly. He listens with half an ear as Natsuo and Youji gripe at each other. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before.

He rolls over onto his back and stares at the ceiling. It’s clean and brown, lined in a way that starts to blur when he unfocuses his eyes. He lets his mind drift and tries to think about nothing.

He doesn’t think it works, but it must, because the next thing he knows is a light whap on the side of his cheek, Youji tapping him with a brochure. He didn’t realize he was sleeping.

“Hey, why are you always in our bed?”

“You weren’t using it.”

“Well, now I want to. Move. I want to sleep.”

Ritsuka closes his eyes again. “Go around. There’s plenty of room.”

Youji huffs, but there’s the depression of a mattress, an indelicate rustle as Youji gets into bed beside him. “Why can’t you just use Soubi’s bed, anyway?”

“He doesn’t like it because it makes him sad,” Natsuo says from across the room. “Aw, c’mon, really? Don’t go to sleep. I’m going to be bored. Play with me.”

“You cheat,” Youji says. “It’s no fun when you cheat, and anyway, I want to sleep with Ritsuka.”

At one point, Ritsuka would have balked at sharing a bed with anyone, let alone Natsuo and Youji, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He feels tired and numb all the way down to his bones, his limbs weighed down by lead. There’s another rustle as Youji worms his way under the covers until he’s pressed to Ritsuka’s side, a solid, warm weight.

Youji’s hair tickles his nose and his bony shoulders are going to make Ritsuka’s arms fall asleep before too long, but it’s… nice. It’s nice to have a body next to him, to feel someone warm and quiet and alive.

“You don’t get cold,” Ritsuka says.

“Shh,” Youji says. “I’m trying to sleep.”

But he snugs himself tighter into Ritsuka’s side and drapes his hand over the top of Ritsuka’s head, and it’s nice. It doesn’t stop the hollow burning in the pit of his chest, but it gives him something else to hold onto.

Natsuo turns the volume down on the TV until the game soundtrack is just an itchy patter of white noise. Ritsuka drifts and drifts in the cold afternoon air. It’s barely anything to slip back under into sleep.

*

His dreams are vivid, confused things. He sees Soubi there. Soubi sits alone on the porch of a house he’s never been to, nestled somewhere in a forested area. There’s nothing but greenery all around, and though it’s day, the sky is black and there are lights in the sky. Soubi is illuminated by pale moonlight, his hands nothing but a quick white blur in the dark. The ember of his lit cigarette crackles and glows bright when he brings it to his mouth to take a drag.

Ritsuka’s heart clenches painfully in his chest at the sight of him. He means to call out, but his throat constricts. A pale squeak falls out in the place of words.

Soubi’s head snaps to the place where Ritsuka stands, out in the cold dark of a pebbled walkway.

“Ritsuka?”

Ritsuka wants to go to him. He wants to run. He knows he’ll be protected in those arms, that Soubi can fix it. He starts toward the porch, but the distance gets greater. He starts to run, feet hitting the pavement soundlessly, but everything begins to stretch.

“Soubi!”

A light in the house clicks on, washing everything in a cautionary glow. The scene twists and bends, and Ritsuka wakes up breathing hard in the dark.

His heart pounds, and his fists clench, ready for a fight. It takes some time for the shapes around him to resolve into known shapes. After that, it’s a familiar dark he finds. Youji is still sleeping beside him, and Natsuo has joined them. Their breathing makes a kind of comforting, living metronome. It’s long minutes before Ritsuka’s harsh, panting breath falls into sync.

He’s sweaty all over. It’s cloying under the covers—too much heat and too much skin. Ritsuka sits up carefully, extricating himself from grasping limbs and trying hard not to wake them.

The sun set sometime while they were sleeping. Blinking into the quiet room, he can see now that it’s not dark but something close to it. Long shadows stretch across the walls as weak light finds its way through the curtains. The silence is punctuated by the occasional rumble of a car passing by.

The effect is disorienting, something like falling asleep and waking up in another place. He still expects to wake up in his own bed. Soubi’s apartment still feels like foreign territory. He checks his cellphone—9:35. He still keeps it charged out of—what is it? Something. Not hope. Not habit, exactly.

It just feels better to have it with him, a familiar, comforting presence in his bag. A lifeline with its end cut, one that no longer reaches anywhere, but its slight weight still feels good in his hand. He can see the thread stretching outward, if he tries. The thread that connects him to Loveless’ fighter. He wonders if he followed it, would he find Soubi at its end or just a stranger?

He scrubs a hand over his face and puts his phone back in its pocket. Mom will be angry when he gets home if she notices at all. He isn’t sure if he’s feeling lucky tonight. He isn’t sure if he’s feeling brave. He’s feeling tired, with the headache that comes from sleeping too long during the wrong part of the day. He’ll be lucky if he can sleep tonight at all.

He doesn’t turn on a light, too aware of Natsuo and Youji sleeping behind him. They’re good friends, he thinks. They try hard to take care of him in their way, even if it doesn’t come naturally to them. He pads to the kitchen, the trail familiar enough that he can find it in the gloom, and fills up a glass of water at the tap.

He thinks about the way the water feels like his to take—he doesn’t feel like a guest in this house. He doesn’t feel like anything as he rinses the glass and sets it back on the dish strainer to dry. It’s just a glass of water. He was thirsty, so he took it.

He hopes that Soubi will come through the door with an armful of groceries. Ritsuka wants him to come in and fuss, to cluck over the way that Ritsuka eats an unbalanced diet. He wants Soubi to cook anything for him.

But Soubi isn’t going to walk through that door, no matter how Ritsuka wishes for it. He looks around the small apartment, forlorn.

He could stay. He could get back into bed with Natsuo and Youji and lose himself for a few more hours—at least until morning. He doesn’t sleep well these days, but he sleeps often. He might even see Soubi again in his dreams.

But sleeping won’t bring Soubi back. The real Soubi is out there somewhere, with Seimei. Ritsuka tugs on his coat and shoulders his bag. As an afterthought, he tiptoes back to the bed and pulls the covers off the Zeroes. He woke up sweating, and it’s hot in this room, the heater making everything feel dry and close. He doesn’t want them to overheat. 


	2. Chapter 2

Ritsuka tugs on his shoes by the light of the landing. The cold outside is a stark contrast to the cozy warmth of the house. There’s a long, breathtaking moment when Ritsuka wants to give up, crawl back into bed, and forget it.

He’s already got his shoes on, he reasons. It’d be a shame to have to take them back off. It isn’t raining, but the air smells like rain. His breath puffs out in rising clouds of steam, and he wonders if he’ll get caught in a downpour again.

He’s looking at his feet, patting his pocket for his train pass, and when he sees a pair of long legs, his breath catches in his throat—

—but it’s only Kio. Kio, who Ritsuka hasn’t seen since they returned from Gora. He’d forgotten. He doesn’t know where he assumed Kio had gone. There’d just been so much else—it hadn’t been on his mind.

“Hey, Rit-chan. Is Soubi home?”

Ritsuka swallows hard. He suddenly feels like crying again.

“Ritsuka? What’s wrong?” Kio’s voice sharpens all at once, concern coloring it.

“Soubi is—he—” He swallows, taking a deep breath. “Seimei,” he says. “Seimei took him.”

Kio’s face darkens, and he swears with a string of words that Ritsuka has never heard before. “I knew that something—he hasn’t been to class. He’s always gone a lot, but never like this. I came over here to see—” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry. It’s freezing out here. Do you want to go inside?”

Ritsuka shakes his head. “Natsuo and Youji are sleeping, and I—I should get home.”

“Are you alright?”

Ritsuka nods, and then he just stands there. He realizes he’s shaking, and it has nothing to do with the cold.

Kio reaches out and takes Ritsuka’s elbow, leading him to sit down on the stairs. Kio sits beside him. “You’re not okay.”

He reaches into his bag and pulls out a lollipop, holding it out to Ritsuka wordlessly.

Ritsuka doesn’t want candy, but more than that, he wants not to cry. He takes the Chupa-chup and tears the wrapper off before jamming it in his mouth. It tastes like sugar, like artificial strawberries and cream. It’s sweet enough to turn his stomach, and the night still smells like it’s going to rain.

A lone car speeds by.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He does. He doesn’t.

He says the words aloud, just to see what they sound like. The more time passes, the more it seems like an impossible thing that couldn’t have happened.  He worries that Soubi feels like a dream, like something he made up. He worries that he’ll forget this too.

“Seimei told him to come, and Soubi went. He told me sorry before he left. There was just—there was nothing I could do. I told him not to go, but there was nothing I could say.”

He balls the wrapper up in his hand and clenches it tight—useless, ineffectual anger. There’s still nothing he can do.

“There’s nothing anyone could have done,” Kio says, looking up at the sky.

Kio goes quiet beside him. Ritsuka looks at him, shaded in hues of orange and grey by the phosphorescent light above them.

“You don’t seem worried.” It comes out like an accusation.

Kio laughs, and it sounds bitter. “I always worry about Sou-chan. He’s not good at staying out of trouble—you know that.”

“But Seimei  _ has _ him.”

“Seimei has had him before. You didn’t know him then. He was… different.”

“Different how?”

“He wasn’t happy, for one. I can count on one hand the times I saw him laugh or smile. He was… reserved. Secretive.”

“What do you mean, reserved?”

“He kept to himself unless you gave him a good enough reason not to.” Kio nods at him. “You’re that reason now, you know.”

Ritsuka is quiet, thinking. He doesn’t know that happy is a word he’d use for Soubi now. He thinks of Soubi frantic, pressing his face into Ritsuka’s belly, into his lap like he might shake apart otherwise. He thinks of Soubi’s desperation, his need to be  _ good. _

But he can remember other times, Soubi laughing in the kitchen when Ritsuka made a face after trying wasabi. Soubi holding him close, mischief on his face while he pressed kisses to Ritsuka’s nose, forehead, cheeks, and lips—everywhere he could reach, until Ritsuka sputtered and pushed him away. He has pictures lining the wall above his computer at home—Soubi smiling, Soubi happy. Both of them happy together.

There were good times, mixed in with all the bad.

“Sou-chan is tough. He’s survived Seimei before. He’ll do it again now.”

“I’m going to get him back,” Ritsuka says. He doesn’t know how, but even as he says it, he can feel that it’s true.

Words have power. Words can never be taken back. If words can carry magic, then maybe these do too.

Kio looks at him with a sad expression on his face. There are things written there that Ritsuka can’t read. “I hope you do.”

A light rain begins to fall. Inside, Natsuo and Youji sleep in warm, quiet darkness. The wind whips Ritsuka’s hair against his cheeks, turning them pink and cold.

“I’m going to go home,” Ritsuka says after a while, when the silence grows long and awkward between them. He likes Kio alright, he guesses, but he doesn’t know how to be with him without Soubi in the room.

“Alright,” Kio says. “Do you want me to drive you to the train?”

“No, I’ll be alright.”

Kio nods, leaning back against the steps. “Okay.”

Ritsuka gets up to leave, and Kio doesn’t. Ritsuka stands there, hesitating. “Are you just going to sit here?”

Kio smiles at him, just a little. “For a little while.”

“Okay.”

Ritsuka turns to go, only stopping when Kio calls out to him. “Ritsuka?”

“Yeah?”

“Take care of yourself, okay?”

Ritsuka nods. He doesn’t say  _ you too, _ but he feels it in his heart. After all, if Kio is here, and Natsuo and Youji too, then Soubi can’t be a dream he made up in his mind. If they’re real, then Soubi has to be real too. They can all remember him together. It’s a loss they can share.

Ritsuka thinks of Soubi changing, becoming the way Kio describes him—reserved. Unhappy. He doesn’t like it. He wants Soubi back just the way he lost him. He wants to laugh with him again.

He doesn’t know if it’s a thing he can have.

“I’m going to get Soubi back.” Ritsuka tells it to the empty train station. The words don’t sound as strong here, eaten up by the cold, unforgiving tile. They don’t sound as strong when he’s alone, but they don’t have to.

Just as long as he can still believe them.

* * *

The house is dark and quiet when he gets home. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. His mom’s been known to sit in the dark, waiting to ambush him before. He eases the door open silently, willing the shaft of light from the outside not to leak into his mother’s room. He slides it shut just as carefully, standing in the dark for long moments to let his eyes adjust.

It’s not truly dark inside. The light from the street bleeds through the edges of the windows, turning everything ghostly pale. Ritsuka creeps up the stairway, avoiding the steps that creak under pressure. His heart pounds in his ears, adrenaline spiking, and he breathes a sigh of relief once he’s got his bedroom door closed and locked behind him.

The window is open, blowing a sharp, cold breeze into his room that makes him shiver in his coat. He slides it shut again, fingers hovering over the latch. In the end, he doesn’t lock it.

He lies on his bed staring up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the heater. After a while, he rolls over and clicks on the lamp. He drags a heavy scrapbook out from under his bed. Seimei’s scrapbook. It’s still here from the day he and the Zeroes were looking for clues. He flips it open, flicking through the pages. He sees his own face smiling up at the camera, bent seriously over a sand castle, laughing next to Seimei.

Seimei looks just like he remembers—kind. He tries to see the monster that everyone talks about, the one they want to destroy, but he just sees his older brother. The one who used to wash his hair in the bath and keep him safe when Mom had bad days. He sees arms that look like sanctuary.

Ritsuka reaches out and traces Seimei’s face in Polaroid miniature.

His stomach hurts. He pushes the book away and curls around the empty, aching pit of it. He won’t go downstairs. He doesn’t have it in him tonight. He takes a deep breath, in and then out, another and another. He doesn’t go looking for the phone that won’t ring.

Breathe in and breathe out. He’ll make it through this night the way he’s made it through all the others.

* * *

“Faceless. What do you know about them?”

They’re in the park again, without Yuiko and Yayoi this time. They could talk about this at school, Ritsuka guesses. There’s no reason anyone would assume they were talking about anything but a game, but something about the idea feels wrong. Like they’re two separate worlds, and Ritsuka wants to keep them that way for as long as he can.

Besides, he likes the park. Even though it’s cold, the leaves on the trees are still green. He likes to watch the way the grass ripples over the lawn as the wind blows. It reminds him of the sea.

“Nothing,” Natsuo says.

Ritsuka blinks. “What do you mean nothing?”

“No one knows anything about Faceless,” Youji says from his perch, sprawled across the picnic table. He sounds bored, his arm flung over his eyes to shade them from the sun. “No one knows what they look like, and no one can remember their names.”

The idea of it raises the hair on the back of Ritsuka’s neck. “Sounds horrible.”

“Sounds useful,” says Natsuo. “Imagine all the fun you could have. You could take whatever you wanted. Do whatever you wanted.”

“But you’d be forgotten,” Ritsuka says. The air feels suddenly colder.

Natsuo and Youji exchange looks.

Youji breaks the silence first. “Yeah, and we already do whatever we want anyway. Who needs invisibility?”

“So how are we supposed to find them if no one knows what they look like and no one knows their names?”

“They’ll find us,” Natsuo says. “Zero Grandma already made first contact. Faceless knows we’re looking.”

“So what do we do until then? We just wait?”

“We wait,” Natsuo agrees.

Waiting isn’t the worst thing. Ritsuka has his friends, and they’re good friends. He has Yuiko and Youji, Natsuo and even Yayoi. It isn’t nothing. It just feels like he’s missing something—an arm or a leg. He keeps leaning into a body that’s not there, waiting to hear a voice that doesn’t come.

His dad is a ghost in their house, barely home and hardly there even when he is home. Ritsuka eyes the kitchen chairs nervously and flinches when he sees his mom looking. The thought hits him with a chill that if she were to tie him up now, there’s no one who would come to get him. Maybe his dad.

Maybe not.

His attendance improves. He doesn’t skip school because he has nowhere else to go. If Faceless are as good as they say, they can find Ritsuka there as well as anywhere else. It sounds fantastical—a pair of fighters who slip through the world, unseen. It sounds like something out of a nightmare, and if there’s one thing Ritsuka is sure of, it’s that nightmares are all around them.

He dreams that night.

He wakes up in a forest of green, so much of it that he forgets that anything else exists. There’s nothing but green—nothing before it and nothing after it. There has never been anything else. In the sea of verdant hues, he can hear laughter, light and musical. It comes from somewhere behind him, and Ritsuka turns toward the sound.

He starts toward it, stumbling in the underbrush, in the roots that catch his toes. He tries to pick his way carefully through the maze, but the sound is always moving. He goes faster and faster, sure that he has to find it. To grab hold. But no matter how he turns, the laughter is always behind him, ringing in his ear. He trips and falls and dashes his hands on the rocks. He hits his head when he falls and lies with his cheek pressed to the mossy forest floor, dazed.

By the time he scrambles to his hands and knees, the sound is gone. He can still feel the echoes haunting him, clinging to the edges of his heart.

When he wakes, he can’t remember whose laughter he heard, but his palms feel itchy and raw.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays to you and your loved ones. I hope you find moments of light at the end of this dark year. <3

You’re starting to forget the things that are true. You list them in your head quietly when you’re alone.

You have the scent of cut grass, Ritsuka pensive beside you. You have a dozen nights, real and imagined. You cling to a small body like a life raft.

Seimei says,  _ I am the only truth you need. _

You say,  _ yes. _

That’s right, isn’t it?

Why does it sound hollow?

You think there was another truth, something outside of this, but you’re starting to lose it day by day. You lose it by pieces. By halves. You try to sound out its name in your sleep.

_ Think only of me, _ Seimei commands, but

There’s another face swimming behind your eyelids. It turns out that even he can’t compel you to  _ forget. _

* * *

The waiting gets harder. Life continues on, and Ritsuka doesn’t want it to. Resolve made him feel strong, but waiting makes him feel weak.

What if they don’t come?

As he waits for Faceless, time is passing, and Seimei is doing who knows what, who knows where. And Soubi—

He can’t finish the thought. It makes his stomach hurt.

December comes, and Christmas edges closer. Ritsuka isn’t looking forward to it. The increasing cold puts him in a foul mood, and the persistent dark puts him to sleep. The real Ritsuka had liked Christmas. This Ritsuka doesn’t feel any reason to.

He stares out the window during class, earning worried looks and exasperated scoldings from Shinonome-sensei. He doesn’t like it when people worry. 

Yuiko wants to go to the Christmas market in Hibiya. She tells him all about it while they walk home, talking a mile a minute and only stopping for breath when she asks Ritsuka to come.

“I don’t want to,” he says.

“But it’ll be fun!” Yuiko weedles. “Yayoi is coming too. There’ll be lights and music and food vendors.”

“You just want to go for the food,” Youji says.

“I do not! We can buy presents. It’s open for a few weeks before Christmas, so we can go together. Please?”

That’s right. Everyone is going to be busy with their families, doing things together on Christmas day. Even Natsuo and Youji are planning on traveling back to Gora to spend time with Nagisa-sensei. Ritsuka misses them, then. All his friends, although they’re standing right there. He misses them with an ache in his heart that feels like they’re already gone.

So he agrees to go. They plan to go next Saturday. Natsuo and Youji invite themselves along, and even Kio comes too.

“Don’t you have better things to do?” Ritsuka asks when he turns up at Soubi’s house to walk them to the train station.

Kio just shrugs. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on you kids, right?”

“Not really,” Ritsuka says.

They don’t need a babysitter. And even if they did, it probably wouldn’t be Kio, who let them have sake on more than one occasion. Still, it’s nice to have him present, although Ritsuka will never admit it. It feels almost like being close to Soubi—being close to someone who loves him too. That Kio is still with them feels like a declaration that he hasn’t given up yet.

They take the train to Hibiya Park, chattering about all the things they plan to see and do. Yayoi wants to buy a European-style ornament for his mom, and Yuiko is dreaming about Christmas cake. Even Natsuo and Youji listen with interest, asking questions about the things you do at a Christmas market.

Ritsuka closes his eyes and lets their enthusiasm wash over him. It’s not that he doesn’t want to be here. He still feels that ache in his chest—like the anticipation of loss—when he looks at his friends. He doesn’t want to miss a thing. He just feels set apart, as if his classmates’ smiling faces and uncomplicated joy exists somewhere else, away from him. He feels like he’s watching it through a bubble from somewhere removed.

A bump to his shoulder startles his eyes open again. It’s Kio, sitting next to him. He looks at Ritsuka with something like understanding on his face.

“I miss him too,” he says, the words almost eaten under the hum of the train and his classmates’ excited chatter.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ritsuka says.

“It’s okay, you know. To feel sad. To miss someone.”

“I know that,” Ritsuka says. Of course he does. He misses Seimei every day.

Kio offers him a Chupa-chup, and Ritsuka shakes his head. Youji and Natsuo start clamoring for it instead, and they earn glares from the other passengers, Yayoi hissing, “Knock it off. You’re going to get us kicked off the train.”

Ritsuka looks out the window at the brick of the underground tunnel passing by. The lights make stark patterns on the wall, and he lets his eyes unfocus, resting on the nonsense shapes that go by. He’ll rejoin everyone else, just—not quite yet.

The sun is just starting to set as they emerge from the underground. The sky is painted in hues of deep blue and violet, the lack of clouds somehow suiting the way the air bites his cheeks. They see the crowd before they set foot in Hibiya Park, carried along on the tide of people coming and going from the fair.

The Tokyo Christmas Market is packed with people. It’d be easy to lose each other if they weren’t with Kio, who’s the only one of them tall enough to be seen in a crowd. The smell hits Ritsuka immediately, the scent of grilled meat and frying dough intermingled with the crisp scent of pine trees. It’s intoxicating and so distinct. It doesn’t remind him of anything, but he can tell that from now on, he’ll connect it to this place forever.

The normally spare park has been transformed. Dozens and dozens of booths ring the central fountain, all of them decorated to look like a Christmas village. Evergreen wreaths are hung from pointed roofs. Multi-colored garlands and pine boughs crown the slopes, and jaunty paper snowmen smile down on them from on high. Everything is covered in lights and ornaments.

It’s more color and cheer than Ritsuka can remember seeing for a long time, and his hands itch for his camera. He wants to save this, to save everything about it. He wants to show Soubi.

There’s so much to do that he doesn’t know what to do first. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to.

“Is that fried chicken?”

“Oh my god, I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

Ritsuka isn’t very hungry, but he’s pulled along by Yuiko grabbing his hand, over to the row of stalls with smoke and steam wafting out. Youji and Natsuo get an order of garlic karaage, and Yuiko orders from the booth while Ritsuka stands beside her and looks up at the sky. It’s not snowing. He kind of wishes it would.

Ritsuka blinks when a hot sandwich is pressed into his hand.

“Ham, egg, and cheese,” Yuiko smiles. “You looked hungry.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

His stomach churns, but Yuiko is still smiling at him, and Ritsuka doesn’t want to be rude. He takes a bite of the sandwich, and his eyes close of their own volition. The bread is pillowy-soft, and the eggs break apart beneath his bite with soft gouts of steam.

His ears perk up. “This is really good.”

“Isn’t it? It’s my favorite.”

Ritsuka’s stomach gurgles, as though the first bite has reminded it how much it likes being fed. He’s suddenly famished.

Yuiko laughs at the sound. “Ritsuka-kun, when’s the last time you ate?”

He shrugs, taking another big bite. It occurs to him that he honestly can’t remember. He doesn’t want Yuiko to fuss or worry, but luckily she doesn’t. How could she? There’s too much celebration in the air, too many things to see and do. Even Ritsuka’s mood is buoyed by it.

They wander over to the stage to see the band play. Ritsuka finishes his sandwich and wishes he had another, his stomach still growling faintly. It’s easy enough to forget he’s hungry, though, when there are so many things going on. He watches the dancers move in unison, their movements coordinated to the drum and flute, festive costumes fluttering in the cold night air.

He forgets a lot of things, for a little while. Soubi and Seimei, Septimal Moon and Moonless at their door. For a while, it’s nice just to  _ be, _ to let the music carry him away.

They stay until it gets dark. The ornamental lights decorating the booths turn on after night falls, illuminating everything with a kind of artificial cheer. It gets colder once the sun goes down. Hands get shoved into pockets while they stroll through the marketplace, looking at wares.

They stop at a booth full of Christmas ornaments made of glass. The heat from the booth is intense, the lights up above shining down on the ornaments and reflecting back at shoppers twice as bright. Ritsuka keeps his hands in his pockets, afraid to break anything. Kio stops, and Ritsuka waits beside him, glancing over his shoulder at Yayoi and Yuiko stopped a few stalls down.

“What about this?” Kio asks, holding up an ornament to the light.

It dangles from a thin gold cord, a butterfly made from multifaceted crystal. It’s as light as the real thing in Ritsuka’s hand when Kio passes it over.

“For what? We don’t have a tree at home.”

“For Soubi.”

Ritsuka clenches his fist around it, feeling the delicate edges of the wings bite into his palm. He opens his hand to look at it again, before the alarmed shopkeeper can scold him for treating her wares so harshly. It’s beautiful. It catches the light, its clear body refracting it into hues of pink, blue, and green. A tiny, personal rainbow.

“How much is it?” he asks the vendor.

“¥2000.”

It’s a lot to spend on an ornament. Ritsuka just looks at it, the little butterfly caught in his hand, looking like it’s about to take flight. “I’ll take it,” he says, determined.

The vendor hands it to him in a little bag, and he clutches it close as they walk through the rest of the market.

“Nice,” Kio says, nudging him on the arm again. “He’ll love it.”

“You think?”

“I know. Sou-chan likes everything you give him, but especially that. Keep it safe for him.”

Ritsuka nods, holding the bag just a little tighter. “I will.”

“Hot chocolate!” Yuiko exclaims as soon as the Lindt stand comes into view.

Youji sneers. “Aren’t you full yet? You just ate all that food.”

“It’s Christmas!”

“It is not.”

“Yuiko has a healthy appetite. Leave her alone,” Yayoi says.

“And that’s why she’s so huge,” says Youji.

Ritsuka shakes his head at his friends’ bickering. Yuiko looks like she wants to cry, and Yayoi looks like he wants to fight.

“I want some hot chocolate,” Ritsuka says, and he’s surprised to find that it’s even true.

Yuiko beams at him, and even Yayoi and Youji fall silent once the booth comes into view. It looks like a toy store covered in golden bears that are all wearing Christmas hats. A machine on the roof makes snow sprinkle down on customers every few minutes.

“Whoa.”

The line is long, noisier and louder here than it was near the other vendors. An announcer declares that they’re going to start calling raffle numbers, and the crowd starts flowing around them. They’re still deciding what they want when Ritsuka gets separated from the group in the sudden press of people.

“Hey!” he calls, but the music is starting up, and it swallows the sound of his voice. “Hey, Yuiko!”

He sees the flash of her hair, pink against the sea of dark-colored coats, but then she’s gone again. How annoying. Ritsuka pushes through the crowd, murmuring  _ sorry, I’m sorry, please excuse me. _ He could use that growth spurt right about now.

They can’t have gotten far. They were only just here, but Ritsuka must have gotten carried away farther than he thought. He can’t see over the tops of the shoulders of the people in front of him, and everyone is pushing in so close. Someone steps backwards, and he’s jostled, crushed into the front of the woman standing behind him, who makes an angry noise.

“Sorry,” he says weakly. “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

It’s too loud all of a sudden, so loud it’s hurting his ears, and hot here, even in the middle of winter. He wants to get away, but he doesn’t recognize any of the vendor booths from this angle. He doesn’t know where he is.

The only way he knows to get out is to start shoving, and he’s not about to do that. He closes his eyes shut tight and gasps, trying to get enough air.

A hand latches onto the back of his coat and plucks him from the middle of the crowd like a mother cat with its kitten by the scruff.

“Watch out,” the voice says. “One side, excuse me. Excuse me, get out of my way.  _ Move.” _

Ritsuka doesn’t know who she is, but she’s clearing a path with words and elbows. He’s so relieved to get out of the crushing, claustrophobic throng of people that he doesn’t bother to look up until they’re safely hunkered down behind one of the booths.

“Are you okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Ritsuka says, too relieved to even bristle at being called a kid. “Thank you.”

He looks around. They’re surrounded by little wooden trinkets, snowmen, reindeer, and men in tall, red pointed hats. “Is this your booth?”

The woman snorts. “No.”

“Oh.” He starts to get an uneasy feeling, already looking back toward the crowd, trying to see if he can spot his friends. “Then why are we back here?”

She shrugs. “Because no one else is, and you looked like you needed a rescue. Was I wrong?”

“You shouldn’t go into places where you aren’t invited.”

The woman laughs, and he can’t tell why it’s funny.

She sticks out a hand. “Nishimoto Hina.”

He takes it but doesn’t offer a name in return. She doesn’t seem offended.

“Well, let’s be on our way if trespassing offends your delicate sensibilities.”

“I’m not  _ delicate,” _ he protests, but he follows her around the side of the booth all the same.

“You’re not a lot of things,” she says. “I can always tell.”

He doesn’t get a chance to ask what that means.

“Ah.” Nishimoto looks up, a sly smile crossing her face. “Mistletoe.”

There is indeed a little bundle suspended from the eaves of the booth. Before Ritsuka can put two and two together, Nishimoto leans in and brushes a kiss across his cheek. She smells clean and warm, like peppermint candy.

“Merry Christmas, Aoyagi Ritsuka,” she breathes in his ear.

He doesn’t have time to react before she’s already away.

“Is Nishimoto-san your real name?” Ritsuka asks, his heart pounding faster.

“No.” She smiles at him. “You’re pretty sharp, aren’t you?”

She steps back and melts into the crowd. Ritsuka looks, but he can’t find her. He doesn’t even know which direction she went.

He’s left holding the envelope she’d pressed into his hand, small and red and embossed with a golden moon. He can remember her smile but not her face.


	4. Chapter 4

Ritsuka is still so small. It’s the first thing that Seimei notices.

He’d have thought that he’d miss something—some vital growth spurt, some essential change—he was expecting it. He wouldn’t mind looking at a tall new stranger, just as long as it was Ritsuka underneath. It was something he was prepared to give up when he committed to this plan, a necessary sacrifice, but Ritsuka looks just the same. Small and sweet, just like Seimei remembers him.

It’s as if Ritsuka belongs to him down to his cells, as if Ritsuka’s very body is waiting just for him.

He takes out his phone and flicks through the pictures Nisei sent him. There’s a good selection of Ritsuka crying and quite a few of him with those Zeroes. He’s smiling in this one.

Seimei wrinkles his nose. He doesn’t like that. Worthless artificial pair made from scrap parts—they’re not good enough for his Ritsuka.

He scrolls back a few days to the other pictures, the ones with Ritsuka walking alone down a familiar shaded street. Ritsuka stops to adjust his scarf around his face, and there—that one. The pale moon sliver of tears on his cheeks in the instant before he wipes them away. Seimei looks at Ritsuka’s eyes, wide and bright and almost glittering with unshed tears.

He sighs. This is how he’d like to remember Ritsuka.

“I’ll fix it,” he murmurs to his phone, running his finger along the smooth glass like he can feel the pixels dragging beneath his hand in a rough approximation of skin. “I’ll make it better, just you wait.”

He doesn’t want to hurt Ritsuka. He just loves comforting him when he cries.

Soubi watches him from across the room. Seimei can practically see his fingers twitching, itching for a cigarette. His lip curls in disdain. It’s such a weak habit. He’d thought about making Soubi quit, but something about the idea of him dying of lung cancer, old and toothless and alone, is funny.

Seimei watches him back until Soubi looks away.

He sighs, bored already, and waves vaguely in the direction of the door. “Go have one of your disgusting cigarettes.”

Soubi nods and slips out the back door, quiet as a tall, lanky ghost. He’ll make Soubi quit if it ever stops being funny.


	5. Chapter 5

Ritsuka shoves the envelope in the bag along with the butterfly ornament he’d somehow managed not to lose in the grinding swell of the crowd. He meets up with his friends a short while later, and they give him strange looks that don’t come with questions attached.

“I saw—”

Youji, sharp-eyed, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s crowded here,” Kio says.

“We saved you a hot chocolate,” Natsuo says.

The drink is pressed into his hand, still just a little warm from the cold, and Ritsuka drinks it and keeps his mouth shut. He keeps looking around for the rest of the night, trying to see Nishimoto-san in the crowd, but he knows he’ll never find her again.

He doesn’t open the envelope until he gets home, his bedroom door and window locked and double-checked twice for good measure.

He looks and looks, but he doesn’t understand what he sees.

* * *

He’s at Soubi’s apartment again. It’s Sunday, and his mother was out doing the week’s shopping when Ritsuka slipped out the door. He’s sprawled on the Zeroes’ bed, the envelope and note spread out before him.

“What is it?” Natsuo asks, peering over his shoulder.

“It’s a message from Moonless. It just says ‘Sorry for your loss’ with a picture attached. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Natsuo and Youji exchange looks, their ears flattening toward their heads. “Nothing good.”

Youji nods at the picture. “Where is that?”

Ritsuka picks it up for the hundredth time. “I don’t know.”

He passes it to Natsuo, who studies it before shaking his head.

“Are you sure you don’t know? You said Faceless said your name, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So Moonless meant this for you. Why would they give you a picture you don’t understand?”

“To piss me off? I don’t know.” He glares at Natsuo. “You said Faceless were supposed to help us find Seimei.”

“That’s what Yamato said. They did contact you.”

Ritsuka makes a frustrated noise and tosses the picture back onto the bed. “Some help.”

Youji picks up the photo and puts it in Ritsuka’s lap. “Throwing a fit going to get us anywhere. It’s a message for you, so look again.”

Ritsuka does. He looks. He  _ really _ looks, studying the photograph. It’s just big enough to fit inside the palm of his hand, small enough to be tucked inside the red envelope Faceless had pressed into his palm. He has to peer closely to see the details, but even then, it means nothing to him. It’s just a house, a white house with dark brown trim around it, ivy climbing up the sides of the porch. He can see the start of a dirt path but nothing useful—no house numbers, no street signs. Nothing he can identify.

He looks long and hard before tossing it down again with a sigh. “I don’t know,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ve never seen that place before in my life. It’s just a house. I don’t know whose it is.”

Natsuo chews on the edge of his lip, turning the edge of the photograph until it’s facing him. “Well, we can ask around. Maybe Nagisa-sensei knows something.”

“Do you think Soubi is there?” Ritsuka asks.

“Maybe,” Natsuo says while Youji says, “Probably.”

“It could be Moonless,” Youji continues. “Maybe they still want your help. Although it’s not like you’d be much help without Soubi.”

“Hey!”

Youji shrugs. “It’s the truth. A Sacrifice isn’t much good without his Fighter.”

“Yeah,” Ritsuka says, his ears falling.

“Hey,” Natsuo says, bumping his shoulder against Ritsuka’s. “We’re with you. We’ll get him back.”

* * *

His mom’s good mood doesn’t last. Ritsuka should have known it as soon as he walked in the door—should have felt the chill in the air that had nothing to do with the temperature or noticed the tension of a thing pushed to its breaking point, ready to snap—but his mind is on other things. He’s thinking of the picture tucked in his bag, the accompanying note with neat, precise script. It had smelled faintly of something when he brought it to his nose—like tea or jasmine.

He’s still wondering if it means anything, still wracking his brain to find a match for the little house in the photo. It was a message for  _ him. _

He should have gone straight up the stairs, but the smell of something good lures him into the kitchen. His mom is making curry, and the growling ache in his belly leads him into the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten all day, too caught up in their research and planning, and now his stomach won’t let him forget it. The scent of stewed meat and spices is heavy in the air, and he peers over at the pot bubbling merrily on the stove.

“Hi, Mom,” Ritsuka says. “Dinner smells good.”

And he just doesn’t  _ see. _ He doesn’t see the rigidity in her body, the tense, straight line of his mother’s spine or her knuckles white around the edge of the counter. He doesn’t see her face for the way her head is bowed, hair like a black curtain around it.

_ “You.  _ Where have you been?”

Her voice cracks like a whip, and he’s sorry. He messed up. He did this, and he’s sorry.

His voice falters, soft and low like talking to an angry animal. “I was with my friends. I’m sorry I wasn’t home sooner.”

The sun is still up outside. Afternoon is just starting to shade into evening, but Ritsuka doesn’t say that.

“My Ritsuka would have never left me alone all day. I cooked for you. Do you know how hard it is to keep you and my husband fed? Do you know how hard it is without any help?” Her voice cracks on the last sentence.

She rounds on him, and he can see the color in her cheeks that are cherry-bright. She’s been drinking. He can smell it on her.

“I’m sorry,” Ritsuka says, ears flattening down against his head, hands raised in supplication. “I’ll help you next time. I’ll help you now—whatever you want me to do, just tell me.”

He doesn’t see the wooden spoon before it connects with his face, but he might not have moved even if he had.

If it makes her feel better, he thinks, just like always. If it makes her feel better, then why shouldn’t she be allowed? She hits him again, with the spoon and then with her hands, and he flinches, but he doesn’t grab her wrists.

The spoon falls to the floor with a clatter, and she buries her face in her hands.

“Mom?” Ritsuka asks, starting forward. “Mom—” he reaches out, a tentative hand toward her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!”

She jerks back, and Ritsuka is left standing with his hand out. He lets it fall.

“Don’t touch me,” she says again. She hurries out of the kitchen, and Ritsuka is left alone. Down the hallway, he hears a door slam.

His face stings. He raises his fingers to his temple, and they come away dotted with blood. He’ll need to put some ice on it to keep the swelling down. His stomach growls again, his body incessant with its needs, even if he no longer feels like eating.

He eats at the table alone, mechanically chewing the curry that had smelled so delicious ten minutes ago. He washes his bowl and puts the rest of the curry away. He pauses outside his mother’s door when he walks by, creeping as close as he dares on silent feet. He presses his ear to the cold, rough wood and listens. Inside, he can hear the sound of muffled crying, and it wrenches something in his heart.

He stands there for as long as he dares, forehead pressed to the door and eyes shut tight. Times like this, he wants so badly to disappear. That way everything could be made right. He doesn’t know how not to hurt her.

He goes up to his room with a head full of unquiet thoughts.

_ I could save you right now, _ he remembers Soubi saying.  _ Take me and let’s run away. Otherwise I’m afraid of what will happen. _

He chokes on a sob.

* * *

Christmas break is long and bleak. Ritsuka waits for answers. He waits for his friends to return. He spends more time at home, partly because he feels guilty for making his mother worry and partly because Soubi’s apartment makes him feel worse. It’s too quiet and lonely without Natsuo and Youji. The walls hold too many memories, even down to the smell of Soubi’s cigarettes, stale and lingering like a memory. 

“Stupid Soubi, always smoking,” Ritsuka says, but his heart isn’t in it.

He doesn’t go back there until Natsuo and Youji get back from Gora. The news isn’t good. Nagisa-sensei doesn’t know anything about a house or Moonless.

“Sounds like you’re not going to get him back,” she said in relation to the note.

“That’s all she said?” Ritsuka asks Youji.

He shrugs. “Yeah, pretty much. Oh, she did say to give you this, if you want it.” Youji fishes a scrap of paper out of his pocket. A series of numbers is written on it in a neat hand.

“What is it?”

“Ritsu’s phone number. Nagisa-sensei says she doubts that he’ll help you, but you’re welcome to try.”

“Oh.” Ritsuka’s tail falls as he takes it. “Thanks.”

“Are you going to call?”

“I think I have to.”

Youji nods. “Good. She said you’ll probably have better luck in the morning.”

“Why?”

Youji grins. “Because he’s cranky all the time, but especially at night.”

“Good to know,” Ritsuka says. It doesn’t sound promising.

* * *

He wakes up early the next morning, a full hour before he needs to leave for school. His body protests. He’s been keeping late hours recently, between adjusting his sleep schedule to play Wisdom Resurrection and spending most nights with Youji and Natsuo. His internal clock hadn’t reset itself over winter break.

He pads into the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee. There’s no milk in the house, but there’s sugar. The taste of coffee isn’t much improved by sweetening it, and Ritsuka grimaces as he chokes it down.

He glances toward his mother’s door, stilling himself to listen for any subtle sounds coming from her room. There’s nothing. His father is long gone, at work already, and his mother should be sleeping for a while yet. Good. He doesn’t want to be interrupted.

Disgusting as it is, the coffee wakes him up, so Ritsuka has at least stopped yawning by the time dials Ritsu-sensei’s phone number. Unfortunately, it’s done nothing for the jittering, restless feeling in his body or the pounding in his chest. He hadn’t liked Ritsu when they’d met. He likes him less now, having heard more about the way he’d raised Soubi.

His ears bristle when he hears the voice on the other line, bored and sounding impatient.

“Hello?” 

“Hello, Ritsu-sensei? It’s Aoyagi Ritsuka.”

“Ah. Aoyagi-kun. I was wondering when you’d be calling me.”

“You were expecting me?”

“I hear things. I hear that Soubi-kun has been recalled by Seimei.”

“I need to get him back.”

“You need?” There’s a change in Ritsu’s voice, and it isn’t nice. Ritsuka can’t put his finger on it, but he feels like he’s being mocked. “What about what Soubi-kun needs?”

“He doesn’t need Seimei,” Ritsuka says firmly.

“You’d be surprised. Although I’m not surprised that you don’t understand. You’ve never been properly trained.” There’s a sigh on the other end of the line. “Enough chit-chat. You called me with a question. Hurry up and ask it. I don’t have all day.”

Ritsuka blinks, momentarily thrown by the quick change in the direction of the conversation. “I received a message from Moonless. It’s a photo of a place I’ve never seen, with a note I don’t understand. It just says ‘sorry for your loss.’”

Ritsu pauses. “Are you sure it’s from Moonless?”

“Of course I’m sure.”

“Why?”

“Because—” Because it was signed by Moonless? Anyone can write a name on a piece of paper. How would he know? He’s quiet as he thinks through what it means, how he could have been duped.

“Now you begin to understand. The place in the photograph, describe it to me.”

“It’s a picture of a house,” Ritsuka says.

Ritsu makes an impatient noise. “That tells me nothing. Describe it clearly. Be thorough.”

The photo itself is tucked away in Ritsuka’s desk, but he doesn’t need to hold it in front of him to see it now. He’s looked at it so often over the past couple of weeks that all he has to do is close his eyes.

“There’s a white house. Two storeys. It has a long, flat porch surrounded by a railing made from dark wood. I can see a little bit of the path. There’s a garden, and it’s well-tended. Somebody cares for it.”

“That doesn’t sound like any place I know.”

Ritsuka lets out a breath that carries with it the sound of bitter disappointment. He had thought—hoped.

Ritsu keeps talking. “But I can tell you it’s the sort of place that Seimei would favor. Keep searching, and you’ll find him.”

“How do you know?” Ritsuka asks.

“Because he wants to be found by you. Tell me, what will you do when you find him?”

“I’ll take Soubi back. I’ll take him home.”

“Can you do what’s necessary to take Soubi back from Seimei? I wonder. He won’t relinquish Soubi-kun willingly, you know.”

“I’ll find a way,” Ritsuka says.

“I wonder,” Ritsu says again. “I doubt you’ll survive the attempt, but I have an interest in seeing Soubi out of your brother’s hands. Call me again if you manage to find him, and I might have something for you.”

The line disconnects before Ritsuka can ask what he means.


	6. Chapter 6

Ritsuka hasn’t been sleeping well. His dreams have been strange. They torment him with vivid sights—sounds and smells that leave him waking frightened and confused. It doesn’t help that his mother has been getting worse.

He’d woken to find her standing over his bed, whispering to herself in the dark and watching him sleep.

_Mom?_ he’d asked. _Mom?_

She didn’t say anything, just clung to herself, whispering and rocking back and forth on her heels, and it had scared him so badly it chased every last suggestion of sleep away. He’d leapt out of bed and spoken softly to her in the dark, coaxing her back to bed until his throat was sore and the sun was peeking up over the horizon.

By the time his alarm went off, his eyes felt gritty, and his head felt stuffed full of cotton.

He doesn’t make it to school that day. He just can’t.

* * *

He’s awoken by a rough rapping sound. Ritsuka lifts his head from his pillow, disoriented. It’s bright outside. The clock reads 3:45. He must have fallen asleep.

Youji is standing outside his window, tapping against the glass impatiently, and Ritsuka lets him in, still wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“Youji? What’re you doing here.”

Youji shrugs. “I came to see if you were dead.”

Ritsuka huffs. “Thanks. Where’s Natsuo?”

“He wasn’t worried that you were dead.”

“You were worried?”

“No,” Youji says defensively. “So what’s up with you? Are you avoiding us?”

“No,” Ritsuka says. “Nothing like that. I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“You look terrible,” Youji says in that way both Zero boys have. He doesn’t say it like anyone else would—concerned, maybe a little bit mad. He’s cheerful about it, like he’s looking at a particularly interesting bug.

“I haven’t been able to sleep in a while.”

“So? Come over to our place.”

“I don’t want to. I might as well just stay here—”

“It’s your mom, right?” Youji interrupts. “So come and stay with us. We’ll protect you.”

He feels full of an emotion he can’t name just then, at such an easy, careless offer. Something that makes him nod. Something that makes him feel a little dizzy with something that might be relief and might be gratitude. He feels the full weight of just how tired he is right then.

Youji slaps him on the back a little too hard, right over a bruise, and Ritsuka winces. “Good. Now I can stop worrying about you being dead. Soubi’s going to be pissed if we can’t keep you alive.”

* * *

It feels good to walk into Soubi’s apartment again. What’s startling is how much it feels like coming home.

At this time of day, usually Youji and Natsuo would be playing games or watching television. The lights would certainly be on. Instead, Ritsuka walks into a quiet, dark house. The room is filled with music Ritsuka’s only ever heard in elevators, soft and light and reminding him of department stores and doctor’s offices.

Natsuo is sitting at the table, making a face at a handheld console, but he looks up when Youji calls, “We’re home!”

“Oh, you found him. Welcome back.”

“Why is it so dark in here?”

“It’s supposed to make you sleepy,” Natsuo says.

Ritsuka takes in the dark room, the bed piled high with pillows and blankets, his friends standing there acting strangely subdued and hushed. “Is this… an _intervention?”_

“I don’t know what that is,” Youji says.

“It’s when someone is on drugs, and everyone gets together to surprise them and cry and tell them to stop,” Natsuo says.

Youji recoils. “Ugh. Sounds awful.”

“I know, right? It’s like a birthday party, but bad.”

“Then yes,” Youji says to Ritsuka. “This is an intervention. Look, we turned out the lights and everything and found some boring music, so now you’re going to sleep.”

There it is again, that watery-eyed feeling. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“So what? We’ll be quiet.”

Ritsuka feels like he should argue. He wants to want to argue, but he’s just… he really is so tired. He nods instead. “Okay.” And then quieter. Belated, begrudged. “Thank you.”

Youji shrugs. “Whatever.”

Ritsuka lies down, swaddled in blankets. The bed smells like Natsuo and Youji—familiar, a little strange. It’s strange to be lying down in the middle of the day. The lights stay off, but light pours in through the window, staining everything lightly grey. Natsuo and Youji talk in hushed voices on the other side of the room, too quiet for Ritsuka to really hear.

He closes his eyes and waits for sleep to come. When it doesn’t, he opens his eyes and stares at the woodgrain on the ceiling. His mother isn’t here. Seimei isn’t here, and neither is Soubi. Nothing is coming for him. Youji and Natsuo would hurt it if it tried—they can do it, too. They’re strong. Maybe not as strong as Soubi, but they are.

Knowing that should make it easier to sleep, but his body stays tense, waiting for his mother to burst in the door murmuring nonsense. Waiting to wake up and find that he’s been taken someplace else. Waiting to wake up and find that he’s no longer himself.

He turns his face to the side. He still can’t sleep.

From time to time, one or the other of the boys will wander over to the bed and peer into Ritsuka’s face to see if he’s sleeping yet. They always adjust the covers around him, tucking in whatever he’s managed to untuck in his tossing and turning. He’s going to give up. He’s going to get up and put his clothes back on and go home, but then he realizes he’s not awake at all.

* * *

He’s in the green place again. He can’t see it, but he can smell it. It reminds him of the park near his house in the days after they’ve mowed the lawn. It reminds him of something he can’t quite name.

It’s dark here. He sees everything through a haze, blurred as though there’s a silk over his eyes, but when he reaches up to take hold of it, there’s nothing there. Everything is grey and indistinct, made up of forms that shift in the blackness. Everything is always moving away.

He hears someone calling his name in the distance, someone familiar, but it’s too far away to make out the sound.

He wants to go to them, but he knows better than to go blundering in the dark. He sticks out his hands, feeling in a wide circle around himself. Now and then, his fingers brush something—soft like leaves—but they seem to move away the closer he gets.

The earth crumbles softly beneath his feet, a kind of give he can feel beneath his sneakers. He goes slowly at first, then faster as he builds his confidence. He hurries toward the sound of the voice. When he finally trips, he gasps before catching himself.

He doesn’t think it’s his imagination that something gasps back.


	7. Chapter 7

He stops trying to sleep at home. It doesn’t work, and he sleeps better at Soubi’s house anyway, although whether it’s Natsuo and Youji’s presence or the associations, he has no idea. He has felt safe here so often, he realizes. In Soubi’s house, he has never once felt afraid.

His schoolwork suffers, although he still makes an effort. Shinonome-sensei pulls him aside and asks if everything is alright at home, and Ritsuka answers with false brightness. He starts avoiding Yuiko and tries not to think too hard about it.

Tonight is a night just like any other. It’s early still. 5 o’clock, and the sun has just barely begun to set. He usually doesn’t go to bed so early. Somehow he knows what he has to do—this thing he’s been putting off, making unimportant.

_If it doesn’t matter, then why won’t you do it?_

Ritsuka doesn’t like cowards. He doesn’t like cowardice, especially not on himself.

“You can just sleep in our bed, you know,” Natsuo says.

“I know,” Ritsuka said. “But I think… I have to.”

Natsuo nods, and Ritsuka doesn’t think it would be an exaggeration to say there’s something like approval written on his face. “Okay.”

Natsuo leaves him alone and goes to join Youji. From behind the curtain, Ritsuka hears the sound of another body getting into the bath. A faint splash and a sigh. He’s left to face the bed alone.

It’s been left exactly the way it was the last time Soubi used it. The blankets are a snarled mess at the bottom of the mattress like they’d been kicked off in a hurry. The top sheet still carries wrinkles around the indentation of Soubi’s weight.

So messy, Ritsuka thinks fondly.

It’s not a big deal. It’s just a bed. It’s a bed like any other, but Ritsuka still sucks in a deep breath and clenches his fists at his side, steeling himself before he gets in. He’s being silly. He can do this. It’s just a bed.

Ritsuka climbs into the bed like a prisoner going to face his fate, grim-faced in his soft pajamas. The mattress is hard beneath his back, and Ritsuka wrinkles his nose. He’d never noticed it before, always too distracted by the presence of Soubi beside him every time he’d slept here before—Soubi teasing, touching, doing his best to make Ritsuka blush. Now he wonders why Soubi has such an awful bed and how he ever manages to get any sleep on this thing.

Ritsuka’s ears flatten. Soubi probably thinks this is all he deserves.

Ritsuka untangles the blanket and pushes his feet out under it. He brings the edge up under his chin and buries his nose in it in a fit of weakness. The smell is so much. It’s going to make him cry.

If he closes his eyes, he can imagine that Soubi is here, annoying and frustrating and always saying such awful things at just the wrong time. Ritsuka _misses_ him. This small scrap of connection only heightens the enormity of his loss, and he’s suddenly grateful that Youji and Natsuo are on the other side of the curtain, safely tucked away where they can’t see him. He doesn’t want to be seen for this.

This was a terrible idea. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get to sleep now.

He’s going to get up before he does something he’ll have to explain—something stupid like crying into Soubi’s bed. He presses the fabric to his nose, turns his face into Soubi’s pillow and breathes deep again. Soubi’s hair. His cigarettes. The scent of his skin.

It feels like comfort and pain all at once. He doesn’t think he will, but it’s not long before such familiar smells lull him and drag him back down into sleep.

* * *

The dream is so clear this time. It’s the same dream, the one he’s been having for months. He can smell the cut grass, the smell of winter plants beginning to wake up in anticipation of spring. He can _see_ now. It’s like pulling back from a photograph, thousands of tiny pixels resolving into images he can see and feel.

The forest is really a garden. The grass is the scent of a lawn.

There’s Soubi.

“Soubi,” Ritsuka breathes, and Soubi smiles at him gently.

“Hello, Ritsuka.”

“Where are we? Is this—is it real?”

“What do you think?” Soubi asks.

“I think… no. This is just a dream,” Ritsuka says. 

Soubi looks curious. “So just because it’s a dream, that means it isn’t real?”

“Of course. That’s how dreams work. They aren’t real.”

“Is love real?”

Ritsuka scowls. “That’s not the same thing.”

“Isn’t it? Things have weight in the world even if you can’t see them. Things can be real, even if they’re only real to you. Or to me.”

“I changed my mind,” Ritsuka says. “This must be real because only the real Soubi could be so annoying.”

Soubi laughs and then looks startled by it. He laughs more than Ritsuka thinks the comment deserves, but Ritsuka can’t help smiling all the same. He feels such relief to see Soubi again. It feels so good to hear him laugh.

“I’ve been dreaming about you a lot lately, but this is the first time I’ve been able to find you.”

“I haven’t dreamed of you,” Soubi says.

“Where are you?” Ritsuka asks. He recognizes where they are now, the lawn in front of the house. He recognizes the hulking, dark shape behind them as the house from the picture. All the lights inside are turned off save for one.

“Oh, Kanagawa prefecture, I think. 1177 Minasegawa, Ashigarakami district.”

Ritsuka blinks and repeats it to himself. He’ll commit it to memory. He won’t forget.

He didn’t think finding Soubi would be this easy, or this hard.

“I miss you,” Ritsuka says quietly.

“I miss you too,” Soubi says.

Ritsuka wakes in the middle of the night, and he knows.


	8. Chapter 8

It seems absurd that it should be so easy. After so many months, after wracking his brain and such sleepless nights, it’s almost obscene that the answer would just be  _ given  _ to him. And yet Ritsuka isn’t in the mood to tempt fate, nor to overlook a gift that’s been given to him.

He knows where Soubi is now. That’s all that matters.

Now he just has to figure out how he’s going to get him back.

He calls Ritsu-sensei again, as promised. He remembers Nagisa-sensei’s admonition to call him in the morning to get the better end of his temper. She surely didn’t mean this early, but Ritsuka can’t find it in himself to wait. Now that he knows where Soubi is (Kanagawa prefecture—he could be there by tomorrow!) any amount of delay suddenly seems intolerable. The glacial patience he’s had since before Christmas has evaporated, leaving a molten sense of urgency in its wake.

He calls from Soubi’s apartment without even bothering to change into day clothes. He isn’t sure if Ritsu will answer at this time of day, but the call connects.

“So you’ve found him,” is all Ritsu says once Ritsuka gives his name.

“I have.”

Ritsu doesn’t ask how, and Ritsuka doesn’t offer.

“Fortunately for you, I’ve been working on a spell with my colleague. It’s just about done.”

“Will it help me get Soubi back?” Ritsuka asks.

“It might. It’s a spell of separation. Of severing. It’s modified from one of Nagisa’s nasty projects. It should block the bond between Soubi and your brother and forge a temporary bond between you and Soubi if you face them in battle, although it’s never been tested on an organic pair. Are you listening?”

“I am.”

“Good, because I don’t like repeating myself.”

The words of the spell tingle in Ritsuka’s mind as Ritsu-sensei speaks them, even outside the confines of a battle. He mouths them quietly, committing them to memory while Ritsu waits for him to do just that.

Ritsuka sucks in a breath, unable to keep the hope from his voice. “So that’s it? I just say the spell, and the bond will be broken?”

“For the duration of the spell battle. Once the battle has ended, all bonds will revert to their former state, so I suggest you do whatever you have to do before then. It will buy you some time; that’s all.”

Ritsuka lets that sink in, digesting it.

“You understand what I’m saying, don’t you? Can you do what needs to be done?”

“Why are you helping me?” Ritsuka asks, hedging. It doesn’t matter, but it’s been weighing on him since his last conversation with Ritsu.

There’s a sigh over the line. “What do you mean?”

“I didn’t think you liked me,” Ritsuka says.

“I don’t like your family. I don’t like  _ you, _ but I do think you’re less likely to break Soubi-kun than that brother of yours. Consider this self-interest rather than a favor to you. You didn’t answer my question.”

Ritsuka is quiet for long moments. “I can’t hurt Seimei. I love him.”

“So you condone the things he does. You don’t mind that he’s stolen Soubi away. You don’t truly want him back.” Someone else would say that with compassion—anyone else would—but not Ritsu. Ritsu sounds bored and full of disdain.

“No,” Ritsuka starts.

“But you won’t do anything about it, so you must be fine with things as they stand.”

“I don’t like it, but I won’t hurt Seimei.”

“There is no room for half-measures,” Ritsu says over the phone. “If your conviction falters, if your will is divided, you will not stand a chance. Soubi will be lost. Do you understand that? You will have one chance, so I’ll ask you again—will you do what needs to be done? Will you hurt Seimei, even kill him?”

“I—I can’t,” Ritsuka says.

Ritsu sounds disgusted when he speaks. “Then I have no business with you.”

The line goes dead before Ritsuka can even protest.

* * *

Ritsuka had expected Natsuo and Youji to be as excited about the new developments as he is. He had not expected to see his friends’ ears flattening against their heads as they eye him like he’d grown a second head himself.

“You’re going to  _ sever their bond?”  _ Youji asks, scandalized.

“Whoa.”

“What?” Ritsuka asks. “I don’t get it. What’s the big deal? Kouya did it when she fought you.”

“Yeah, but that’s—” Natsuo shudders, stabbing a pair of chopsticks in his direction, ramen sitting forgotten in front of him. “It’s bad news, Ritsuka. It’s not a good spell.”

“So you think I shouldn’t do it?” Ritsuka’s not sure he  _ can _ back out now, is the thing—not when he’s so close. Not when this is all he has.

“We didn’t say that,” Youji says.

“It’s probably the only chance you have,” Natsuo agrees.

“Yeah,” Ritsuka says.

“You’re hogging all the gyoza,” Youji gripes, battling Natsuo’s chopsticks with his own. “Let me have some. How’re you going to fight Soubi, anyway?”

“What do you mean? Ritsu said that the spell would cut the bonds of Beloved and renew the bond between us. Soubi will be fighting for me.”

“If you can last long enough to cast the spell,” Natsuo says, guarding the last dumpling. “Soubi is good. Better than maybe anyone.”

“Not us,” Youji interjects, yanking it neatly away.

“Not us,” Natsuo agrees. “But everyone else. He and Seimei were  _ famous. _ He’ll destroy you.”

“He wouldn’t,” Ritsuka says, but the words sound as unsure as he feels.

“He’d do anything that Seimei told him to do,” Youji says. “He’s the perfect fighter unit.”

It does not sound like a compliment.

Ritsuka turns away so they can’t see his face, staring out the window like there’s anything there worth seeing. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t even try?”

“We didn’t say that,” Natsuo says.

“But you’re going to need some help,” says Youji. “Eat your ramen.”

* * *

In the days leading up to their trip, Natsuo and Youji spend a lot of time asking Ritsuka if he was  _ sure— _ absolutely sure—that he doesn’t want to find the Loveless Fighter.

“It’s crazy to go into a spell battle on your own. You’re untrained, and anyway, you’re a Sacrifice. There’s no way you can attack. I doubt you can even defend.”

“I’m not  _ useless,”  _ Ritsuka says, feeling tetchy with nerves. “And anyway, Seimei’s a sacrifice, and I’ve seen him battle on his own. He nearly defeated you.”

Youji and Natsuo exchange a look, holding onto each other like they suddenly feel chilled.

“Seimei is… different,” Natsuo says.

“There’s something wrong with him,” Youji says cheerfully.

A familiar sense of outrage flares in Ritsuka. He hates when people talk about Seimei like some kind of monster, but the truth is it happens so often that he’s starting to get used to it.

“Maybe there’s something wrong with me too, then,” Ritsuka says.

“Yeah, maybe,” Youji says. “You can call a fighter unit that’s not yours—not really. But you’re still untrained.”

“I’m not going to use another Fighter,” Ritsuka says again, grimly determined. “Soubi is the only Loveless Fighter. I don’t want another one. I promised him, and I keep my promises.”

Youji shrugs. “So we do it the hard way.”

“The fun way,” Natsuo says with a grin.

“You don’t think I should go alone?” Ritsuka asks. “I don’t think Seimei would hurt me, but… I think he might hurt you.”

“He can try,” Youji says.

“We’re with you, Ritsuka.” Natsuo squeezes his shoulder, and there’s comfort in it.

* * *

They come up with a plan. The Zeroes agree to come along as backup in case Seimei has any surprises planned. In case anything tries to stop Ritsuka from getting to Seimei and Soubi.

_ Soubi. _

Ritsuka has kept the dream with him, tucked away in a quiet corner of his mind where he can remember it when he’s feeling lonely. It had felt so real. He wonders with a shot of fear if he’s following a delusion. He wonders as he gets on the train to Ashigarakami.

Natsuo and Youji hadn’t thought it was weird at all that Soubi had told Ritsuka where to find him in a dream. Ritsuka had been ready to fight about it, knowing full well exactly how absurd it sounded, but his friends had only shrugged.

_ That’s the connection between a Sacrifice and Fighter, _ they had said.  _ Distance doesn’t matter. One can always hear the other. _

But what if it really was a dream? What if he gets to the address and it’s a school or a post office? What if there’s nothing there after all?

Natsuo looks over at him from across the aisle. “Are you okay, Ritsuka?”

“Yeah,” he says, pulling his arms tight around himself. “I’m fine.”

He doesn’t feel fine.

It takes the better part of the day to get to the address Soubi had given him. They transfer trains twice and take a series of buses and a final cab to get to the place where Ritsuka hopes to find a looming, elegant house that he’s only seen in photographs and dreams. The place where he hopes to find his other half.

The sun is just sinking below the horizon as the car rumbles to a stop in front of a vast, manicured lawn.

“Pull up over here,” Natsuo says. “In front of those trees. No, not in front of the driveway, old man. Do you want them to see us?”

“Ey, what are you kids up to? If you’re up to no good, I don’t want any part of it.”

Youji scoffs. “None of your business. You should probably leave now if you know what’s good for you.”

The taxi driver grumbles something under his breath before Ritsuka can manage to shut the door, but he takes off like he’s decided that Youji’s advice is good. It probably is.

They step out of the car under cover of the trees planted to either side of the property. It’s to offer privacy from the neighbors, Ritsuka guesses, although the nearest house is far away on either side. The person who lives here must be very rich to afford this much land.

Ritsu had said it was the kind of place Seimei would like, and Ritsuka thinks again of how little he really knew his brother. He can’t picture Seimei anywhere but their little house in Tokyo, tucked away at his desk, typing at his computer while Ritsuka drowsed on the bed.

He sucks in a breath as the house rises into view. It looks just like he remembers, more ordinary now for being glimpsed with his own two eyes rather than through the haze of dreams.

Youji makes a questioning sound, sparing a glance in Ritsuka’s direction as most of his attention remains fixed on the house before them. His ears are perked straight up, alert for signs of danger.

Ritsuka shakes his head. “Nothing,” he whispers. “I’m just relieved it’s here.”

“They’ll sense us coming,” Natsuo says. “They’ll sense me.” He nods toward the house. “You go on ahead, Ritsuka. We’ll be right behind you.”

Ritsuka hesitates, not wanting to leave his friends behind, and Natsuo gives him a shove.

_ “Go. _ We came all this way to be your backup. Now let us be your backup.”

Ritsuka nods, determined. He sets his jaw and squares his shoulders. He can do this.

“Thank you,” he says.

Natsuo waves him off. “Go.”

Ritsuka expects to be stopped by somebody on his way across the lawn, but nobody comes. The world is loud in a different way here. There’s no hum of cars from the deserted road, but a chorus of cicadas takes up a song as night falls. Darkness covers his approach, but it’s impossible not to feel exposed in so much open space. He wants to look back to see Youji and Natsuo. It’s an effort to keep from hugging his arms for comfort.

Ritsuka walks across the path from his dreams as quietly as he dares. The house looks different this time. It’s lit up from within but no more welcoming than before. The light that shines from behind the curtained panel of the door seems foreboding, somehow.

The porch steps creak softly underfoot as Ritsuka ascends them, and he raises his hand to knock.

The door swings open before he gets a chance.

“Ritsuka. You’re right on time,” Seimei says. He sounds easy and light, standing there in a turtleneck sweater that looks so soft to the touch.

“Seimei,” Ritsuka breathes.

He’s been so angry at Seimei—angry and scared for so long—but he can’t hold onto the feelings in the face of the real thing. Not when Seimei is looking at him like that, looping an arm around his shoulders and ushering him into the house.

“It’s cold out there, I know. Keep your coat on. We’re going right back outside.”

“Okay,” Ritsuka says dumbly, letting Seimei fuss over him.

Seimei smooths a hand over his hair, and Ritsuka leans into the touch. “Are you well? Have you been eating alright? How has mother been?”

“I’m—I’m—” Ritsuka’s ears flatten against his head as he launches himself at Seimei, throwing his arms around his older brother. The sweater is just as soft as it looks, and Ritsuka mindlessly rubs his cheek against it, seeking comfort. “It’s been so hard,” he mumbles into Seimei’s middle.

“I know,” Seimei says, still petting his hair. “Breathe, Ritsuka.”

Ritsuka takes a shuddering breath and then another. Even when it’s all Seimei’s fault, it’s still so impossible to blame him.

“You should have left your friends at home, Ritsuka. They’re no match for Nisei.”

Ritsuka sucks in a breath. It doesn’t sound like Seimei is taunting him, is the thing. It would be so much easier to ignore his words if he was. Seimei sounds just like he has a hundred times before whenever he tells Ritsuka something for his own good.

Ritsuka bends toward him now. He still wants to submit, to accept, to believe.

“We’ll see,” Ritsuka says.

Seimei laughs like he’s delighted. He still hasn’t let go of Ritsuka, his arm warm and heavy around Ritsuka’s back, and Ritsuka can’t find it in himself to pull away. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Seimei asks. “Hot chocolate?”

Ritsuka shakes his head, and Seimei steers him through the house. They pass a man about Soubi’s age sitting on the couch. He still has his ears, like Seimei, and he glances up from his book as they walk past.

“Nakahira-san, this is my brother, Ritsuka.”

Nakahira waves a hand in acknowledgment but doesn’t look up again. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Ritsuka murmurs back. Seimei always did tell him to be polite. “Where are we going?” he asks as Seimei ushers him toward another door. “You said we were going right back outside.”

“To the fight,” Seimei says, grinning at Ritsuka. “Like I said, you’re just in time.”


	9. Chapter 9

Seimei leads him out the door and onto another lawn, one larger and more secluded than the first.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? I like coming out here to think.”

“It’s so dark,” Ritsuka says.

“Isn’t it? There are no streetlights for miles. Chiyako-san says that’s one of the reasons she chose this place.”

“Chiyako-san?”

Seimei squeezes his shoulder. “The woman who owns this house. She’s sheltered me while I plan against Septimal Moon. Let’s hurry. I don’t want to miss it.”

His brother picks up the pace, and Ritsuka walks faster to match him. His heart hammers in his chest and the knotted feeling he’s had in his stomach since his arrival has only grown. He thinks about Youji and Natsuo fighting somewhere in the cold. He worries about them.

Seimei leads them to the edge of a greenhouse, and Ritsuka can sense it even before he opens the door. He’s not adept at sensing magic—not like Soubi or Midori—but even he can feel this. Magic radiates from this place, familiar magic and a strange power he can’t recognize.

“Moonless,” Seimei tells him as he opens the door. “Look and see.”

He hears Soubi before he sees him, the voice that’s fought for him and teased him speaking quick, precise words in battle. Seeing Soubi again is—it’s shocking. It doesn’t feel like coming home, like maybe he’d thought it might. It feels like being sick to his stomach. Soubi’s face is arrogant and cruel, giving nothing away. Ritsuka’s eyes trace along the outline of Soubi’s form, shocked at how much he looks like a stranger. He’s not used to seeing Soubi from this angle, ready to do battle.

He pulls away from Seimei without meaning to, stepping forward to get a better look. When he looks back at Seimei, unsure, he feels chilled to the bone. Seimei looks delighted.

And Ritsuka—he’s not sure he can do this. Fight without Soubi’s arms wrapped around him, without Soubi’s hands clamped over his ears, ready to defend him from things that would hurt his body and heart.

This. This hurts his heart.

He can feel the charge in the air, taste the acrid hint of magic, and yet he still can’t help cataloging the new wounds on Soubi’s body—his hands and face, and those are only the ones Ritsuka can see. He notices Soubi’s stopped wearing those bandages around his throat. The word BELOVED is livid as a brand.

He notices Soubi doesn’t bleed when he fights.

He can’t see what the interior of the greenhouse looks like, distorted as it is with spells. Structures rise out of it, tall spires and towers out of a storybook—things that can’t possibly be contained in the building he’d seen from out on the lawn—and Mikado in the middle of it all, Tokino before her.

Soubi says a word, and it all comes crumbling down.

Ritsuka cries out when Soubi strikes down Moonless, Mikado crumpling under the force of his blasting spell. Tokino shouts her name and runs to her side, cradling her in his arms.

“No. No, no. Mikado, no.” He palms the side of her cheek, tipping her face up toward his.

Her arm is limp and lifeless sprawled out beside her. Her limbs are akimbo, like a puppet with its strings cut. Ritsuka is too far away to see the absent rise and fall of her chest, but he doesn’t need to get any closer to know. He can see Tokino’s face. He knows everything he needs to know—that Mikado is dead. Moonless is no more.

Soubi looks toward the sound of Ritsuka’s voice, and when Soubi sees him, he looks stricken. When he speaks, it can’t be louder than a whisper, but Ritsuka can hear it as clear as day, even across the battlefield. 

“Ritsuka.”

He sounds like it’s the end of the world, like his heart is breaking. And Ritsuka gets it, but he still stands his ground because Soubi is his, and he remembers it.

This is memory. This is strength. He’ll remember it even if no one else does. He’ll choose Soubi, even if Soubi can no longer choose him. Especially if.

This is redemption—love as an act of will.

He steps forward, hesitant steps toward Soubi, waiting for someone to stop him, but no one does. “Soubi, it’s okay. Soubi, I’m here. You asked me once not to abandon you—well, I haven’t. I kept my promise. I’m never abandoning you.”

Ritsuka doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on Soubi’s face before, and it makes every last hair stand on end because he recognizes it. It’s fear. It’s solid, abject terror, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Soubi so afraid. Soubi doesn’t say anything, just stands with his feet rooted while he looks on in horror.

“Seimei!” Ritsuka calls when he’s standing in front of Soubi. “I want you to let Soubi go.”

“And why would I do that?” Seimei asks. There’s no malice in his words. Seimei sounds genuinely curious. He sounds exactly the way he has a hundred times before when he was encouraging Ritsuka to work out a difficult math problem for himself, stubbornly refusing to give Ritsuka the answer for his own good. The memory burns.

Ritsuka’s ears fall. “Because what you’re doing is wrong.” He falters but finds his strength in the speaking. “Because it hurts me, and it’s hurting Soubi. Because I love you, and I’m asking it of you, Seimei.”

Seimei cocks his head to the side, considering.

Ritsuka should know better by now, but a little flutter of hope beats inside his chest. Seimei has been so kind, just like old times. For a moment, he just sees his older brother. He sees a glimmer of the kindness he once knew on Seimei’s face.

Ritsuka makes the mistake of looking toward Soubi, still frozen in horror and dread, and his heart falters.

Seimei frowns, looking between them. A long moment passes before he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Ritsuka, but I don’t think you truly understand. I don’t think you recognize the way things are.” He turns to Soubi, a wicked glint in his eye. “Soubi, I want you to hurt Ritsuka.”

Ritsuka sucks in a breath. His ears flatten against his head of their own volition—still hurt, still amazingly able to be hurt, after everything. This is Seimei. This is Soubi. These are the two that he’s looked to for comfort and help.

“Ritsuka,” Soubi whispers, voice cracking on it. “Ritsuka, run.”

So this is despair. This is betrayal. This is resistance.

Ritsuka shakes his head ever so slightly. “It’s okay,” he tells Soubi, willing him to believe. He manages a small smile, for Soubi’s sake.

“Soubi.” Seimei doesn’t yell. Seimei never needs to yell.

Ritsuka can see the despair in Soubi’s eyes. He doesn’t want to look. He wants to turn away, doesn’t want to see the way this is hurting Soubi, but he forces himself to see—to see and know. It’s important—he feels that in his bones. He lets it crack his heart open, this reality, this future. This is what he has to look forward to if things stay the way they are now. This specific kind of heartache.

_ Are you okay with the way Seimei treats you? _

Maybe. And maybe the answer shouldn’t be  _ maybe. _ Maybe it should be no, but Ritsuka can’t feel what he can’t feel. And this, looking at Soubi—maybe the real question is ‘are you okay with the way Seimei treats  _ him,’ _ and the answer is  _ no. _ A resounding, emphatic no.

Ritsuka takes a deep breath and recites the spell that Nagisa-sensei had given him. “Separation. I divide what has been put together. I remove the strands that bind you to me and me to you. I substitute my Sacrifice for your own.”

He says it with all the conviction he can muster, all the love and hope and pain that’s in his heart. He isn’t sure it can be enough.

“No!” Seimei says. “Soubi, counter.”

Soubi hesitates. It’s just a second—a fraction of a second.

Ritsuka gasps the moment he feels it. It feels like something tears inside his chest, a bright, jagged pain that leaves him reeling. Soubi falls to his knees, and even Seimei staggers. But this feeling—Ritsuka can feel the bond between him and Soubi, bright and strong. Unbreakable. He can see the thread of magic that connects them, and it feels—it feels  _ right. _ He can feel Soubi right there with him, all his grief and pain and rage. All his fear. All his strength.

He understands, now, why Soubi went to Seimei. He understands why Soubi listened to his brother again and again. It isn’t betrayal. How could someone deny a pull so strong, a connection that runs so deep and pure, down to his very soul? It’s a wonder that Soubi could ever try to resist at all.

Soubi staggers to his feet and comes to stand in front of Ritsuka—at Ritsuka’s side where he belongs. The world seems to shift as everything clicks into place, as if the universe itself has rotated a quarter turn to the left and then resettled.

“Ritsuka,” Soubi says. He touches Ritsuka’s face only once, a tentative, wondering caress.

“Soubi.” Ritsuka lets his eyes fall shut and leans into his hand. He absorbs comfort and strength from Soubi’s touch, from his voice. Then he pulls away.

There will be time for that later, maybe. If they’re lucky. For now, they have nothing but borrowed time, too short and running out.

“Well done, Ritsuka,” Seimei says. “Although I’ll make Soubi regret that little trick. I would have kept him for you, Ritsuka, as a pet. Now I think it’s better that he dies.”

Ritsuka grits his teeth as Seimei turns to Nisei, blood on his hands, who’s arrived sometime in all the commotion.

“Nisei, fight for me.”

“With pleasure,” Nisei says as he takes his place on the battlefield.

Ritsuka had come here alone, without a fighter, to face his fate, but Seimei is never alone. Maybe that’s what it means to be Beloved. Two against two, and Ritsuka bristles as Nisei stares him down with his cruel grin and deadly, flat eyes.

“Soubi, finish it,” Ritsuka says softly. He looks within and finds the words waiting, where they’ve been all along if only he would just look at them. For so long, he didn’t want to see. He still doesn’t want to see, but closing your eyes is a luxury for children. He doesn’t have to choose his words with care because he knows exactly what they are. He knows exactly what must be done, even if he wishes he didn’t. “Make sure he can’t hurt us anymore. Make sure he can’t hurt anyone.”

“You understand what you’re asking of me?”

Ritsuka squeezes his eyes shut tight. He bites his lip. He nods.

“Then, yes, Ritsuka.”

Ritsuka fumbles until he feels Soubi’s hand, and then he grabs on tight for dear life. Soubi clings to him just as tightly.

“Wings of night, steal their vision. Suffocate and surround,” Nisei says.

Tendrils of darkness gather at the corner of his vision, enveloping them on all sides. Ritsuka’s heart leaps into his throat watching the tsunami of night rising all around.

“Brightest light, turn back the darkness. Scatter the shadows to nothing.”

A flash of light blinds him, and when his vision clears, the darkness is nowhere to be found.

“Cute,” Nisei says. “But you’re spare parts. You’re no match for the real Beloved.”

“We’ll see,” Soubi says.

He and Nisei trade spells and taunts, and Seimei watches Ritsuka all the while. Soubi still hasn’t let go of his hand. All through the battle, he holds Ritsuka’s hand gently in his, and Ritsuka is grateful. It hurts to see the love in Seimei’s eyes.

Nisei takes the damage for Seimei, and Ritsuka clenches his fists to see it. He has no love for Nisei, not even pity, but even he knows that this is not how you fight. Alone, leaving your Fighter to bleed and suffer. Seimei doesn’t even seem to care, like Nisei is a thing and not a person. Ritsuka turns his mind away from the thought, focusing on giving all his strength to Soubi.

At last, Soubi strikes a blow that makes it past Nisei’s defense, a set of bright chains to wrap themselves around Seimei’s wrists.

Seimei looks angry. He pulls at the shackles that hold him fast. “Defeat him,” he tells Nisei.

Nisei nods grimly from his place on the ground, pushing himself upright on weak, wobbling hands. He’s bleeding sluggishly from a cut to his temple, sweat and blood leaking into his eye. “Yes, sir.”

“Stop this, Seimei,” Ritsuka calls desperately.

“Ritsuka—” Soubi starts behind him, holding him fast where they’re joined by the hands.

Ritsuka shakes his head, feeling tears leak from his eyes. “You can still stop. It’s not too late. We don’t have to fight.”

Seimei smiles at him—a familiar, well-loved smile. “And you’ll let me go?”

“Yes! Let Soubi leave, and… I’ll let you go. You can go wherever you want. You don’t need to do this. Please. For me.”

“Ritsuka. I can’t forfeit a battle.” Fond and exasperated and still so much his brother.

Ritsuka turns away with a sob, body held rigid with hurt.

“You don’t have to look,” Soubi tells Ritsuka quietly. “Close your eyes. You don’t have to see.”

Ritsuka shakes his head, already turning back to face the battlefield, his resolve firming. “I do.”

Soubi studies his face and nods. He doesn’t try to convince Ritsuka again. He sends another spell at Beloved, one that binds Seimei, by throat and by feet. Nisei is already on his knees, helpless.

“I just wanted Ritsuka to love me,” Seimei says, his arm reaching out even through the restrictions placed on him. He looks at Ritsuka, eyes wide and frightened, ignoring Soubi.

Ritsuka feels like his heart is bleeding. “I did. I do. I do love you, Seimei. I’ll always love you.”

“Tongues of fire, consume my enemy. Set us free.”

Soubi finishes it, and Ritsuka can’t look away. In the end, Seimei dies by fire after all. Ritsuka wants to hold him, like Tokino did for Mikado, but after everything, there’s nothing left to hold.


	10. Chapter 10

The sound that comes out of Nisei in the aftermath of the battle is horrible, high and inhuman. It’s a shade of grief that Ritsuka has never heard before and hopes never to hear again, one that makes every hair on his body stand on end, his tail puffing up like a bottlebrush.

This time when Soubi leads him away, turning Ritsuka around and pulling him into his body with strong arms, Ritsuka doesn’t fight it. This isn’t for him. It isn’t his responsibility or his love. He doesn’t have to bear witness to this.

He has enough grief of his own.

Soubi wraps him in his arms. Ritsuka presses his face into Soubi’s stomach, into the fabric of his shirt, the bulk of Soubi’s coat settling around him like wings. He clings tight to Soubi and cries while Soubi strokes his hair.

This should be a sweet moment, a moment to blot out all the bad that came before, but the day is too full of horrors. There are too many dead, too many bleeding. There are too many bad memories and wounds sliced between them. Ritsuka feels numb and heartsore when he pulls away, but he doesn’t let go of Soubi’s hand. Maybe he never will again.

They stagger out of the greenhouse—the greenhouse that’s now just a greenhouse, albeit one with scorch marks up the wall and a blackened spot on the floor. Shattered pots are everywhere. The ground is full of shattered glass and orchids with broken necks. They leave Nisei there. He doesn’t try to follow.

“Natsuo and Youji,” Ritsuka says urgently.

He doesn’t have to explain. Soubi gets it. He nods, and they make their way across a lawn that no longer seems peaceful, if it ever did.

It’s still a moonless night. It seems outrageous that outside, nothing has changed, when it feels like everything has. The night sky should look different. It shouldn’t be possible to be the same night.

They find Natsuo and Youji on the front lawn, covered in dark stains that Ritsuka knows are blood. Natsuo looks up at him through his one good eye from where he’s sprawled across the grass, Youji laid unconscious across his lap.

“Is he—?” Ritsuka breathes, too afraid to say it.

Natsuo shakes his head. One of his ears looks odd, like it’s been torn. “He’s alive.”

Ritsuka nods. He feels like crying.

“You found him,” Natsuo says, nodding toward Soubi. “I’m glad.”

“Thank you,” Soubi tells him.

Natsuo shifts so he’s lying down as well, curling protectively around Youji. “I’m tired. I’m just going to—rest for a second.”

“Natsuo!” Ritsuka starts forward to shake him awake, scared for his friend, but Soubi stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Let him sleep.”

Tokino walks down from the porch where Nakahira stands watch with a silent, unreadable expression on his face. Ritsuka is surprised to see him. He doesn’t know why that would be; he’d seen Tokino’s pain after Mikado had… it’s not like Tokino has anywhere else to go. There’s nowhere to run from grief.

“Thank you,” Tokino says to Ritsuka. He doesn’t look at Soubi.

“They need a doctor,” Ritsuka says, looking anxiously down at his friends. “Please, help them.”

“They have a mother, at the Academy,” Soubi says.

Tokino nods. “I’ll take care of them.” He does look at Soubi then. “You’d better hope I never see you again.”

Something passes between them, something Ritsuka doesn’t understand, and Soubi nods.

Soubi touches Ritsuka on the arm. “Natsuo and Youji will be alright, but we should leave. There’s a car.” He cocks his head. “It’s not close. We’ll have to walk a ways.”

* * *

It really is a very far walk. Ritsuka’s ears ring for a long time, and it feels like the battle has followed them.

He feels a palpable sense of loss—not his grief over losing Seimei, but something else too. It’s the feeling of a severed limb, a piece of himself suddenly cut away. It’s his newfound awareness of Soubi, he realizes. The bond they’d shared during the battle, burning-bright and now gone once more. Ritsuka whimpers without meaning to.

“Ritsuka? Are you alright?” Soubi asks.

Ritsuka shakes his head. “I’m alright. Just—” he rubs hard at his sternum, the place where the phantom ache seems to live. “Hurts.”

“Ah.”

“Do you feel like this all the time?”

Soubi is quiet for a second. “Yes. But you learn to live with the pain.”

Ritsuka shudders. “It’s awful. I don’t think I’d want to.”

Soubi favors him with a small half-smile that looks sad as much as it looks happy. “For a long time, I didn’t either. Sometimes I’m still not sure if I do.”

They’re quiet for a long time after that until Soubi staggers, catching himself on a nearby wall. Ritsuka is at his side, hands out and still unsure if they should touch, to offer to bear the weight.

“Sorry,” Soubi says. “I’m—ah. Tired.”

And then he laughs. It’s a quiet chuckle that starts in his throat and billows outward, taking up the air around them until the laughter morphs into wracking sobs.

“Soubi. Soubi, what’s so funny, what’s the matter.”

But he knows. He knows, and yet he doesn’t know what to do, so he stands there, hands clenched at his sides until Soubi laughs himself sick, head bent down toward the earth while tears fall.

When Soubi can stand again, Ritsuka takes him home.

* * *

Ritsuka breathes a little easier when the door to Soubi’s apartment locks behind them. He’s still not sure when this place came to mean safety.

“Have you eaten?” he asks. 

Soubi doesn’t answer.

Ritsuka shakes him a little by the shoulder. “Hey, answer me. Have you eaten?”

“No,” Soubi says. “But I’m fine. Don’t trouble yourself.”

“No,” Ritsuka says, brow furrowing and ears flattening to his head. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

_ “That,” _ Ritsuka says. “Make yourself small. Act like it doesn’t matter.”

Soubi smiles like he’s placating Ritsuka. He explains like it’s common sense. “But it doesn’t matter.”

“It  _ does, _ you idiot.  _ You _ matter.”

“Ritsuka—” Soubi reaches for him, and it would be so easy to go. To let himself be folded into those arms, enveloped in familiar strength and a familiar smell. But no.

Ritsuka pushes him forcefully away and doesn’t let himself flinch at the expression on Soubi’s face. The barenaked hurt there. His ears stay plastered flat to his hair. If he starts apologizing and explaining now, he might never stop, and then where would they both be?

“No,” Ritsuka says again. “You’re going to eat. You’re going to eat and take a bath, and then you’re going to go to bed, with me, and you’re not going to apologize the entire time. Got it?”

Ritsuka wants to look away, but he stares Soubi down instead.

Soubi opens his mouth, and Ritsuka grits his teeth, waiting for an apology. Soubi closes it again. Then he says, “Yes, Ritsuka.”

A small amount of the tension stringing Ritsuka up tight like a puppet leaks out of his body. He stops bracing—just a little—for the next hit. “Okay.” He breathes. “Good.”

He opens Soubi’s refrigerator and finds—nothing. A bottle of tonkatsu sauce and a liter of soda. Nothing they could eat. He leans his head against the cabinet above the refrigerator and closes his eyes for a few precious seconds, taking a deep breath before closing the door again.

“I need to go get us food,” Ritsuka says.

“I don’t need—”

Ritsuka cuts off Soubi’s inevitable protest with a sharp look. He looks at Soubi sitting lank on the bed. He’s bent over, his hands dangling between his thighs. He looks at them like he doesn’t know what he’s seeing. He looks lost in a way that frightens Ritsuka, and Ritsuka makes a decision.

“I’m not leaving you alone here. Come with me.”

“Yes, Ritsuka.”

Soubi follows wordlessly, with a lack of protest that Ritsuka finds alarming.

Outside, it’s raining again. It’s truly a horrible night to go out. Ritsuka expects some sharp comment from Soubi, but he gets none. Soubi doesn’t even seem to care that he’s getting wet, standing in the rain and allowing it to soak him until Ritsuka squawks and hoists their single umbrella as high as he can in the hopes of keeping the both of them dry.

His arm screams in protest, and he sighs in relief when Soubi finally plucks it out of his hand and takes over.

“Where are we going?” Soubi asks.

“Convenience store?” Ritsuka suggests. It’s late, and he doesn’t know what else is open.

He doesn’t want to be out, anyway. Seimei is dead, and the screeching panic that he’s just barely holding back keeps threatening to break through at the slightest provocation. Everything he so much as looks at feels fraught—the streetlamps, the traffic lights, the night buses cruising silently down the streets. He just wants to get some food into Soubi and crawl into bed and never come out.

They walk to the nearest store, the rain all around them deafening and drowning out the need for conversation. Ritsuka huddles in his coat and walks close to Soubi, feeling secretly glad.

The interior of the 24-hour store is garishly bright despite the late hour. Ritsuka has to squint against the displays.

Ritsuka turns to Soubi. “What do you want to want to eat?” he asks, but Soubi stands there looking as lost in the aisles of the konbini as he did in his own apartment. It’s somehow more pathetic.

Ritsuka puts it out of his mind, grabbing whatever looks good—not whatever he thinks Soubi will eat, since he’s sure Soubi would eat anything if he told him to, but whatever he thinks Soubi might like—cup noodles and a package of cheese puffs and wasabi peas. He lays it on the counter and asks for two orders of chicken karaage for good measure, the morsels packed into paper cups and simmering endlessly under heat lamps.

The tired attendant rings him up, and Ritsuka is fervently glad that he has enough allowance in his wallet to pay for it.

He takes his purchase in its bag and collects Soubi on his way out the door, still staring listlessly into the aisles, only moving when Ritsuka tugs on his sleeve. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The rain has let up a little while they were inside, and the walk back to the apartment is quieter. The splash of their feet through the puddles is its own kind of conversation. Everything glitters in the reflections. Ritsuka thinks of Seimei. He thinks of himself.

They’re quiet as they get back inside, Ritsuka reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key to unlock the door because Soubi is still unsettlingly comatose.

Soubi sits heavily on the floor, his back against the mattress. Ritsuka puts their convenience store bag on the table before reconsidering and bringing it over to where Soubi is. One of these things is easier to move than the other.

He starts unpacking things, spreading their meager dinner out on the floor and placing one of the karaage packets in front of Soubi. He breathes deeply into his own. It’s still a little warm, even after their walk through the cold. His stomach grumbles loudly for smelling it. Even now, his body is incessant. Even after everything.

“It’s—” Soubi speaks, and it’s startling. It’s the first word Ritsuka has heard him say in a while. He shakes his head. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Ritsuka sits up, suddenly at attention. “What is it? What do you need?”

Soubi shakes his head again. “It’s silly. Everything is fine, Ritsuka, really. I have everything I could need.” He tries a smile at Ritsuka, one that looks all wrong. “Thank you for the food.”

“Soubi,” Ritsuka says, using every last piece of willpower he has not to yell—not to scream or cry because if he does, he might never stop. “I’m so tired. My friends are in the hospital, and I saw two people die today. My brother is dead.” Soubi flinches. They both remember who killed them. “I don’t have any patience  _ left _ right now. I need you to tell me what you want because I’m too tired to drag it out of you.”

“Is that an order?” Soubi asks with the ghost of a smile.

“Please,” Ritsuka says softly.

Soubi’s mocking smile falls. He closes his eyes, and he, too, looks tired. He looks ten years older, as miserable and lost as Ritsuka feels. “The lights,” he says. “I’m sorry, Ritsuka, I can’t.” He pushes his hand beneath his glasses and rubs hard at his eyes. “I don’t want to see right now—not anything. Can you turn them off?”

His voice is small and hurt, and Ritsuka doesn’t know what to do about that, but now there’s at least one thing he can do. He scrambles to his feet and flicks the light switch against the far wall. “Lights off. Got it.”

The room is immediately subsumed into pitch darkness, and Ritsuka gasps despite himself.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Soubi asks, immediately on alert.

Ritsuka shakes his head although no one can see it. “Nothing. Just… remembering a bad dream I had.”

“You can turn on the lights.”

“No, just—let me sit by you?”

“Please.”

They breathe together. They can’t help but breathe. Bodies are like that. The rain picks up outside, and there’s the sound of that too.

Ritsuka nudges the chicken a little closer to Soubi. He scoots until their legs are just touching.

He waits for a while, feeling like there’s something he should say. Or Soubi should eat first, or—something. But his stomach gurgles loudly, and he’s hungry and miserable too, so he opens his packet of chicken and starts eating. There’s comfort here. Just a little.

After a while, moving slow—so slow and arthritically—Soubi starts to eat too. He sighs, and Ritsuka leans against him. Just for a second.

It’s better in the dark. It’s easier to be like this, to be here together. It’s easier not to think about what they’ve lost. He can hear Soubi beside him, eating and being alive. Ritsuka can reach out and touch him to feel that it’s not a dream. That this is real.

“What… is this?” Soubi asks. There’s the sound of a package crinkling as Soubi pokes at it, his disdain for the food the first real shred of interest he’s shown in anything since Ritsuka brought him home.

“Comfort food. It’s good. Eat it.” He unwraps a cheese puff and pops it in his mouth to demonstrate. “Try it,” he says around a full mouth.

Soubi copies his example, chewing dutifully. “Why is it all so sweet?”

Ritsuka laughs, and the back of his throat feels tight. It feels like he’s choking. He wants to cry, so he finally does.

* * *

“I think I’ll regret that forever—what we did,” Ritsuka says in the quiet darkness once all the food is gone and there’s nothing to distract them from their thoughts. “I don’t think I’m the same now.”

“Let me bear the guilt for you,” Soubi says. “They’re my sins, not yours.”

Ritsuka shakes his head. “No, that’s not right. It was both of us.”

They lapse into silence again.

“I’m grateful,” Soubi says after a time, so quiet that Ritsuka almost doesn’t hear it. His hand inches forward across the floor until the tip of his pinkie finger is just touching Ritsuka’s.

Ritsuka lifts his finger and strokes it back, just the smallest touch against the dark. No one else is ever going to understand this—what they are to each other. What they did for each other.

He looks at Soubi, the faint light from the window catching on the tips of his eyelashes, the curve of his cheek. He sees his destiny, scarred and heart-heavy, just like him. In his chest, love blooms alongside the pain.

**Author's Note:**

> I am… very proud of this thing I made, in this tiny fandom that few people read. If you’ve been here with me, thank you. I appreciate you letting me tell this story to you. If you want to say hi, I would be delighted. You can leave a comment or find me on [Twitter](http://twitter.com/lovetincture) or [Tumblr](http://lovetincture.tumblr.com).


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